


No estoy borracho, solo intoxicado por ti.

by Nonnymus



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Spanish/Catalan! Grantaire, Summer Vacation, WIP, barcelona
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-21
Updated: 2014-08-21
Packaged: 2018-02-14 04:27:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2177898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nonnymus/pseuds/Nonnymus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Courfeyrac suggests a summer holiday, Enjolras is extremely reluctant to leave his causes for the summer and hates the thought of being bored and inactive. It turns out he needn't have worried.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No estoy borracho, solo intoxicado por ti.

It had been Feuilly’s suggestion, actually. He’d been there once - working, of course, not for pleasure - but had seen enough of the city to feel a certain fondness for the place, even if he’d hated his job there. It was hot, but not oppressively so; the streets were thrumming, dusty – an graffitied maze of gothic backstreets, ornate _modernisme_ -style buildings, towering department stores and apartments, honeycombed blocks of life with Catalan flags, fruit stalls, bustling shops, al fresco dining at trestle tables; the soundtrack was the buzz of neon signs flickering in the sultry evenings, jazz music in the stifling corridors of the metro that rocked the locals to sleep, the horns of the traffic racing past, the tramping feet of thousands and thousands who passed through each day, the pulsing dance music, the swell of the tide, the motorcycles, the varying cadence of the voices of its inhabitants– the city was a strange amalgamation of old and new, beautiful and ugly, familiar and foreign and high class and quotidian. Something about it appealed, and though he didn’t tell Enjolras all this, a fraction of it must have been conveyed in his smile, as Enjolras only nodded and didn’t ask anything further.

\-- 

Courfeyrac had been complaining for months that Enjolras needed a break. With a busy final year of dissertations, rallies, essays, lectures, meetings and surviving on a frightening amount of coffee, he’d been almost vibrating out of his skin by the time graduation came around. Combeferre’s dark circles were getting more pronounced by the day. Courfeyrac himself was desperate for an outlet for all the nervous energy he’d built up in months of studying. He wanted to relax. He wanted to dance with someone. He wanted to sip a cocktail on a sun lounger. He needed a holiday, and so did his tightly-wound friends. So, being Courf, he hatched a plan. 

\-- 

It had started with an announcement (as nearly all of Courfeyrac’s bad ideas did) that once summer came around the three of them were going to go abroad for a fortnight. Combeferre had looked up from his medical textbook blearily, glasses sliding down his nose, and sighed resignedly. 

“I’m happy to talk about this when my exam is not tomorrow, Courf,” he said, and re-immersed himself in his book. 

Courfeyrac merely smiled. That was _basically_ a yes. Combeferre was never going to be able to say no once he’d switched up the charm offensive. It was Enjolras who was going to be a lot more difficult. 

\-- 

“No, absolutely not.” 

“But whyyyyyy, Enjolras?” Courfeyrac wheedled petulantly.

“I told you – I planned to volunteer this summer. I have emailed them and it’s all figured out. Plus I need to finish our website and update all the social media accounts – speaking of which, we need something on the Instagram other than _your selfies_ \- and there are at least seven rallies I’m interested in attending, not to mention several I plan to organise, and -”

“Two weeks, Enjolras. _Two weeks!_ You can’t take a fortnight off?” Courfeyrac pleaded. 

“No.” Enjolras said shortly.

\-- 

“And so I was trying to convince them that a holiday would be a good idea. I reckon ‘Ferre’ll come round to the idea, but Enjolras? He’s a nightmare.” Courfeyrac sighed, resting his chin in his hand and staring mournfully up at Marius and Feuilly. 

They sat clustered around a table in the Musain and were sipping pints of beer whilst Enjolras got his notes together. Combeferre was sat at a nearby booth, typing up minutes for their meeting.

“Of course, it would be great if we could all go, but I can’t see it being feasible, what with Marius on his German course this summer, and aren’t you going to stay with that girl you know in Paris? Colette?” Courfeyrac wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. He did _know_ her name, of course – Marius barely stopped talking about her since he’d returned from his semester abroad – but it was also quite fun to see his friend’s indignant expression. 

“Cosette!” he frowned, nostrils flaring slightly.

“I know, I know,” Courfeyrac smiled, “I’m kidding with you.” “And I suppose you-” he gestured to Feuilly questioningly.

“Sadly there’s no way I could afford it this summer either. I’m gonna be working as much as possible so I can afford to move out of my dump of a flat come September. I can’t deal with Kurt and his loud and frequent love affairs, electronic dance music, miscellaneous drug paraphernalia and dodgy job doing God-knows-what any longer.” Feuilly pursed his lips.

“Well, yes. That’s fair enough. He puts even _my_ lifestyle to shame,” Courfeyrac winked.

“Have you tried choosing somewhere that would _appeal_ to Enjolras? Like, if it had an interesting history or um… protests?” Marius suggested, somewhat meekly.

“I must say I hadn’t really thought about where,” Courfeyrac admitted. "I'm just trying to get him to _agree_ first!" 

“What about me?” Enjolras asked, striding over, scaring Marius nearly to death by walking up behind them.

“Talking about our vay-kay plans, Enjy,” Courfeyrac smiled sweetly.

Enjolras levelled a vaguely amused glare at him. “ _Your_ plans, perhaps. I have agreed to nothing.”

Courfeyrac raised a challenging eyebrow back.

“And I have it on good authority that neither has Combeferre,” Enjolras smirked.

Marius watched the exchange slightly fearfully as Combeferre walked over to see why the small crowd was gathering around their table. He’d always been slightly intimidated by the seemingly mild-mannered man since he’d given a frankly devastating speech on privilege at Marius’ first meeting and shaken his life view to the very foundations.

Combeferre smiled. “Are we nearly ready to begin?”

“Sure, right after I’ve convinced you both that going on holiday this summer is a great idea.” Courfeyrac smiled, slightly flirtatiously.

Combeferre flushed a little. “I’m not _entirely_ convinced that trying to convince Enjolras to relax and not update the Les Amis blog for a whole fortnight is a great idea. I have nothing against going on holiday in itself,” he said.

“I can totally go two weeks without updating the blog,” Enjolras frowned.

Courfeyrac sensed his advantage. “I bet you can’t,” he smirked. 

Combeferre widened his eyes, catching on quickly. Feuilly tried to stifle a grin, and Marius’s glance darted between his friends warily. Enjolras could rarely resist a challenge.

“I'm sure I can,” Enjolras frowned again. 

“Yeah? How about you prove it then? – I bet you can’t! I bet if we went somewhere for two weeks without wifi, you’d be screwed.”

“People live without wifi all across the world, Courf. It's hardly a basic necessity. I’d be fine.” Enjolras set his jaw defiantly.

“Yeah?” Courfeyrac asked challengingly.

“Yeah."

“I’m fine with it if you are,” Combeferre looked over at Enjolras questioningly.

“Fine,” Enjolras sighed, and stalked off to the front of the room to start the meeting.

Courfeyrac grinned triumphantly. _It was just too easy sometimes._

\-- 

It was the following meeting, after several evenings of trawling the internet for cheap holiday deals, that Courfeyrac went back to his friends for ideas. It was not that Marius’ advice hadn’t been good – it had – but more that it was difficult to think of a place with sufficient beach, culture, nightlife, history and good food that wasn’t extortionately expensive and could pique the trio’s interest for a whole fortnight.

“Paris?” Marius asked hopefully.

“You don’t want us there cramping your style whilst you visit your lady friend,” Courfeyrac laughed.

“What style?” Marius muttered under his breath.

Feuilly let out a chuckle.

“Besides,” Courfeyrac continued, “you’ve been there before, right?”

Enjolras nodded solemnly. “And Combeferre,” he said shortly. He was still cross with himself for having been dragged into the plan so easily.

“Berlin?” Combeferre asked.

Courfeyrac considered it. “Good nightlife, no beach,” he said with a frown.

\-- 

“Madrid?”

“Rome?”

“Venice?”

“Seville?”

“Munich?”

\-- 

Feuilly had remained quiet for most of the discussion, only nodding now and then, which was something of a surprise since he had probably worked in or passed through most of the places the others were suggesting.

“What do you think, Feuilly?” Courfeyrac asked eventually.

Combeferre looked up from where he was writing an intense pros and cons list and even Enjolras stopped sulking for a moment about having been almost baited into a holiday he was still regretting agreeing to.

“Uh, well. I liked a lot of places I went. Everywhere you’ve mentioned was pretty lovely when I was there. Barcelona has some beaches though, and a pretty good nightlife, I believe. The architecture is beautiful, and there are a lot of museums and such,” he smiled, meeting Enjolras’ eye. 

Enjolras looked at him intently and nodded.

Enjolras gestured to Combeferre. “Write that down,” he said. 

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a recent trip to Barcelona, the fab Duolingo app (which has a subset of 'flirting' phrases including "No estoy borracho, solo intoxicado por ti" or "I'm not drunk, just intoxicated by you" - which I feel is a totally Grantaire chat-up line) and a real and overwhelming desire for Spanish! or Catalan! Grantaire.


End file.
